Clandestien - The End [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro]
Captain, Is It Over?
It hasn't even started...

[Verse 1: Graphic]
It's over like dose, so potent
Before we noticed, your thrones are comatose
The defining moment, opened with a toast
To the death of an art, but only as you know
Show focus like a microscope
They choke the homeless, it might decide the vote
Awoke a crew, with a new hope
Heard by many, but most blow smoke
You and anyone can try, but I, like wild pities have eyes for the throat
Life's a joke
I'm still waiting for a punchline, It's crunch-time, Don't rely on my flow
To help you, so who's down for the challenge
Let's see who can use the dope intricacies when writing patterns
No Bitin', but if that's what it takes to elevate style then let's get it crackin'
I'll walk away with a smile
Knowing McBride has done his part So spit smart or step aside wait a while
I don't gloat
But you couldn't cope
Let alone recite what happened, time lapses in a flash
Ya domes closed shut, our purpose on earth is captured by fear
My brain's a sponge soak up the atmosphere

[Verse 2: Tomahawk]
I stand on the mountaintop inside myself
And embrace every emotion that I have felt
I welcome love, use my anger, though I'm sadder than the average Sith I know it well
My own personal hell
I smoulder out
All inside is red and black and that's why my eyes are brown
And that's why I say I so often
I'm so self absorbed my true names been forgotten
I'm Tomahawk...
All I do is spit, therefore
I can't and don't want to talk
I've forgotten all
But the verses I pile up
All I see is silhouettes against a black curtain of fire
You'll learn in a cypher my influence
You'll either crumble to ashes or spit the hypest rhyme in music
I'm a loose lipped cannon on Bundy
If you see me smile it's because you faggots are funny
Actually you make me sick like someone razored my tummy
The hounds are out on a battle chases like Gully
We get the crowd on some bloody hell shit
The whole pack howls, you son of a bitch
We deface your favorite fag and tell them their queer
They talk it up but suck dick like American Beer
We're veterans here but we're barely thirty
Your ain't worthy like James, Clandestien wears the Gurnsey

[Verse 3: Mortar]

A journey begins, a saga at it's end
Dopeness evoked with the stroke of a pen
A new hope, an empire in ascendance
Return with a menace, clone revenge in every sentence
Over and Over, the clan's relentless
Charged with holding heat like repeat offenders
My mic's hot, lips spit third degree
Noxious toxins, my writtens liquid mercury
My similes spit with ease better yours
If never Mortar speak I breeze on beats and semaphore
Rhetoric raw, master marksman
First to burst your bubble, at trouble the last laughin'
Crafting speech, intricately woven patterns
Most don't believe till it's simply spoken at them
Lynched with the mic cord, lyrically chokin' faggots
My strike force so quick, kids didn't know what happened
Combatants batting down you hatches
Cats think they've got it locked but can't figure out the latches
Your simplistic when scriptin' in a sentence
Subplot forgot, lets skip to the endin'
Your books closed, my chapters just started
Captured the dopest prose, flow between the margins
Posing the question which asks
Which crew do you know which mastered witch craft